badlands
by misguideddreamer
Summary: she has lived through hell and back, become all kinds of monsters. surprising then, that it might be this which kills bonnie bennett.


songfic told in five songs, all by halsey, all bamon. hope you enjoy :)

 **i. sold my soul to a three piece (and he told me I was holy)**

Bonnie Bennett clutches her grimoire to her chest like a lifeline, pages withered and crumbling between varnished red nails. She takes breaths she will no longer need soon, aware of the green eyes following her moves from the chipped walls. _I'm here,_ she wants to say, but knows it will be redundant.

They have been waiting for her since before she was born.

The grimoire leaves her hands as if by its own accord, resting in the stone plinth among the ivy as if it was born to be there.

The cracked tile beneath her bare feet begins to move, slowly at first and then fast, but she remains where she is, head slightly bowed in the wake of the stone plinth which is growing bigger by the minute.

Strength is something she has in abundance, she reminds herself.

Her eyes remain firmly lowered as the black begins to open under.

"Bonnie," he is standing there (he has always been standing there) squinting at the merging of dark and light which is beautiful to behold, she supposes. "Stop."

Damon has always been one for words and little winky faces with his crazy blue eyes, but today he is subdued. He comes to her without Elena's imprint on his shoulders, and Bonnie wishes for a moment they were back in ghost town where there was only him and her and an abundance of pancakes. She falls silent, twisting the cracked jade around her ring finger and catching his eye.

The stone keeps moving.

Bonnie rotates a little on one tiny toe, peeking out of her dress to face him and smile. "It's done, Damon. It was cemented years ago, before I was even born."

"You don't want this. I've seen vampirism and it's not for you, Bonnie."

"So have I."

She thinks: Vampire is not what I will become. I will be more powerful than any human has right to be, but the power twists, it corrupts. Bonnie stays with her head bowed and prays to all the witches in her bloodline that the power will not rot her from the core. Although, they all did once.

Her hand is steady when she raises her palm to him.

There is something about her in mid spell that has always captivated him.

He remembers- years ago - _was it centuries?_ \- another a bennett witch maybe, breathing deep as the flame illuminating her skin paints it gold, the sigh erotic as it leaves her lips. Damon remembers falling in love.

The boundary spell snatches him up in its silvery cobweb, his howl harsh as he slams his fist into it, over and over.

Bonnie disappears into a pool of golden light, held in mid air for a moment like a dust particle, spinning slowly.

She doesn't resist. He thinks this was what she was like when Death opened His arms to her, the first time.

When he was a child, his mother used to stroke his hair and lie with him for a moment in bed, voice soft in the candlelight as she weaved him little stories. _Death changes you a little each time,_ and now it seems a sad story to tell your child, but Damon understands. Death changed Bonnie into this _thing_ , slightly warped still lovely. Still Bonnie.

She will not survive it a fourth time.

And then, almost as if his thoughts have been the catalyst, he is plunged into darkness. A silver hand, snaking over his porcelain throat ghostly slow, and Damon finds that he cannot scream.

He accepts the darkness, when it comes.

:::

The warmth spreads from her as if she is an orb, and she basks in it for a moment, content to remain as she is.

Peace, she has had so little of it.

When her eyes finally open, she does not have to squint against the yellow light surrounding her. It's a side effect, she supposes, of the light _being_ her.

"Hello, love." In the midst of light, there is always darkness.

Klaus steps into focus, his black blur sharpening around the edges as Bonnie inhales sharply. "You're not the Devil."

"No," his laugh skitters along her skin as he moves towards her. "Did you really think you were here to find the Devil?"

Bonnie rolls her shoulders back until they click, raising her chin to look in his amber eyes, so like the scotch she has found a recent affinity for. And then- the goblet is in her hands, jewelled and encrusted.

"Well?-

The dagger appears in her other hand a moment later, rubies flashing in the light. Bonnie doesn't hesitate.

The blood spills from her wrist readily, the scar thin and curving to match the other ones she has never wanted to remove. (she carries them like tokens, her body a map of scars and witchcraft, proud and unforgiving)

His blood follows, dark red as they both mix. The goblet disappears.

And Klaus is at her throat, her gasp not enough as his lips descend on her throat-

-he plants a soft kiss at the curve of her neck, one hand slipping around her waist to pull her flush against him. "No-" Bonnie sighs for a moment, and she doesn't know what she is asking as his hot breath falls on her lips.

Does she want him to stop?

He takes her blood as a lover might lay a hickey on skin, and she squirms against him with a pent up tension she does not quite understand. She only knows that she must drink (from him) the thirst making her tongue heavy in her throat.

She spins on her toes to face him, standing on the tips as her tongue flits out to taste his throat.

He stills. His hands catch her waist and hold her steady, and Bonnie drinks deep until she steps away from him, panting.

"I'm glad," his eyes wrinkle a little, back to blue as his large hands make their way up and up from her bare shoulders, resting on the curve of her neck. "Thank you."

As if she has granted him some privilege, bringing him here with her-

he snaps her neck.

 **he's got me down on both knees (it's the devil that's trying to-)**

:::

 **ii. would you bleed for me? (lick it off my lips like you needed me)**

She doesn't wake- this time, not properly.

Death hold his hands over her body and keeps vigil at her bedside, silver and blue light streaming onto her delicated face, those arched eyebrows, catlike eyes and full lips. There is no change.

Damon would know; he has been at her bedside with Death as a companion from the minute he awoke, the crick on his neck the only indication he had chased her when she ran.

Elena places a hand on his shoulder, small and cold.

"Let her go," her words break the holy silence at the bedside. "Damon. It's been weeks."

She brushes a painted finger (peachy pink) across the stubble on his cheek and ususally he would have come running. Now, it isn't enough.

Elena is prettied up for him, hair curled and lips red with a shade that should be called- _kiss me off_ \- but he feels nothing other than a twinge that he is not there, that Bonnie might be gone in the minute he has taken his eyes off her.

"Damon," She wheedles again, leaning over to wrap her arms around his shoulders, breasts brushing his back.

He flinches; she leaves.

They have settled into a pattern. She's been hollowed out enough times that she will not be hollowed out by this, the loss of her best friend for the umpteenth time, but _Damon._

Damon _bleeds,_ he's never lost part of his soul.

But it has lain there fragmented against thousand threadcount sheets, just out of reach. For everytime he goes to touch it, the silvery bubble keeps him out.

"Please," he whispers in every language he knows how. His mobile died a week- _a month?_ \- ago, and Stefan has only ever clapped a hand on his shoulder and said nothing. He knows, Damon thinks in the tremble of his long fingers.

What it is to be a ghost; what it is to know- to know that it is all your fault.

"Klaus woke," Stefan informs him quietly three days, 72 hours later, and his voice, at least, does not shatter the peace.

He's run out of hope- a little shell, giving it all to her.

And then, slowly, Bonnie Bennett wakes once more. Her pulse skitters, out of the comatose state Damon has grown so used to hearing, and he leaps to his feet. "Blood," He snaps, and Stefan fetches it for him, thick eyebrow raised.

He thinks- you would have let her die for Elena and not looked back not even a few months ago.

He falls silent and watches Damon pace as Bonnie's fingers twitch, and the veil falls.

The rasp that claws its way out of her throat is soemthing terrible- nails across a chalkboard, things that go bump in the night. Her chipped nails rise to grasp her throat, and Damon's got a blood bag ready.

Bonnie drinks a like a babe at her mother's breast, and Stefan feels his fangs twitch. Leaves the room.

:::

Her nails are stuck at midlength.

It is the first time Bonnie notes the permanence of the situation.

Her hair continues to grow, but her nails are stuck at a midlength she used to wear them at in that happy medium when she stopped chewing them but hadn't started growing them.

Her stomach turns and she finds she cannot look at them any longer.

The shadows of the alleyway engulf her and she closes her eyes, swallowed by the darkness she now embraces. There is warmth in its tendrils as they reach for her-she feels its fold over her like a blanket.

Death is now her realm.

"The Fall," Damon called it quietly, when he tucked a strand of bronze hair behind her ear and told her she was free to leave his bedroom in the boarding house. She doesn't, still. He sleeps in a guest room with Elena, but they have not had sex once.

She would know. She has been listening.

There are times- his eyes flit to her a little to quick, he jumps when she enters a room. But that is a path Bonnie cannot allow herself to go down, not when; Elena has been in organising mode, almost freshman year Elena once more.

She wears her hair back as it was; side part, pin straight and shot with bolts of different brown; mom jeans; minimal makeup.

Stop trying, Bonnie wants to tell her, he's not coming out of his bubble. She bites her tongue, though, and watches. And her brain turns, the little wheels whirring so much more than before, watching watching _waiting_.

For surely there must be Tasks.

"I see you've mastered the art of skulking in shadows," Damon's voice washes over her like a hot bath. "I'm proud."

"I didn't take my cues from you," Bonnie says sharply, and he laughs.

The darkness he had when he first arrived. She has that now, she thinks.

Old Damon would have pushed her against this alleyway wall, fisted a large hand in her hair, maybe at her throat as he tilted his face so he could _take_. Bonnie wonders where the thought has come from, buries it back into the recesses of her mind with all the others. New Damon twines his long fingers with hers.

He claims he likes the warmth being with a Witch Hybrid.

"Hold Klaus' hand," She told him at first, eyes flashing.

Now, she allows him it. She has seen his eyes take her in each morning as she comes down to breakfast, taking inventory of each body part. She is- dare she say it- grateful.

"Elena and Caroline are in there."

"Yes."

"You can hear them talking about you."

His breath is cold against the shell of her ear, the muscle of him at her back instead of the brick wall expected.

"Yes."

Bonnie tucks her hands into her leather jacket and leans her head back, trying to tap back into her moral compass. It has been strangely absent for some time now. She is a hollowed out shell, but it will come, she reminds herself. And when it comes, it will be glorious.

"You don't care."

His voice is low just as Elena's voice rings through both of them, sharp and cutting and bone deep. Quick. "I think she- or maybe him- Damon loves her."

Bonnie doesn't care to hear Caroline's false reasurrance, only turns on high heeled boots. She has known, for some time now. The vampire side of her doesn't care; only wants to manipulate and use.

And the witch...well the witch has not reared its head yet.

The arch of her eyebrow slants across the clench in his jaw, and Bonnie puts one small hand over his plaid covered heart. Swears she hears his sharp inhale, loves the power.

"Don't-" He whispers, low as if this is something they should be ashamed of, and she transforms.

Into Old Damon, one hand at his hair and one hand at his throat, her lips landing on the side of his. And the kiss is quick, a little peck not quite on the lips, the mingling of their breath in the night. Bonnie dances away from him, waits for him to bring her back.

His hand wraps around her waist and smashes her back into the brick wall; his fingers fist in her hair as he tips her head back. Bonnie smiles as his tongue forces its way into her mouth, wonders whether Elena can hear.

 **let's cause a little trouble- oh, you make me feel so weak**

:::

 **iii. your girl's got red in her cheeks (cause we're something she can't see)**

The witch comes back to her slowly.

Where the vampire clawed its way into her soul instantly, her witch side begins to come back in little spurts. Bonnie feels the warmth first, the Earth binding her.

Death is no longer her only companion.

And then the spells; small and simple and Damon brings her baskets of feathers to throw over her head and grin as she makes them spin around them, exploding them into little clouds of disolvable glitter.

"Magic," He whispers, in awe in his blue eyes, and she laughs.

"That's what being a witch is," She bumps his shoulder with her own and pretends she did not feel him stiffen. "It's not all blowing people up and dying."

They have both left each other- Damon would not hold her accountable for Vampire Bonnie's actions. But the _ache;_ she lies in bed and almost welcomes the feeling in the pit of her stomach after spending a day with one of his arms draped around her shoulder while Elena is gone to college, watching a movie or as he makes her little pancakes ( _our little secret_ ).

He's cheating in all but body. Bonnie has his soul.

The gardens are quiet when she makes her way into their heart; the little lily pond with its pergola, honeysuckle scents in the air. The seasons have come and gone, and she has not-known. Been trapped in a silvery glow for half of this year, in her own soul for the other half.

Bonnie crushes a plant between her fingers and feels the tingle, bare toes curling in the soil.

"What are we doing today?" His tone is conversational as he leans against the tree trunk in front of her, tulip held aloft in his fingers. Bonnie catches it when he throws it; turns the petals into moving butterflies until she can coax a smile out of his eyes.

" _I'm_ doing growth spells. Leave me to work, Damon."

His hand is cold as it crawls down her wrist to intertwine with her own- "We both know you like it more when I'm here"- she shrugs, knows it makes Elena uncomfortable to see his hand around hers like more than friends. Knows that he doesn't care.

She does, she has to remind herself.

Elena has held her hand in her own since they were four years old, matching crooked smiles. Matching prom dates, parallel lives until a few years ago when the earthquake split them apart. And now the gap seems too great to bridge. But Bonnie loves her- any part of her- as a sister. And Damon is nothing in the face of almost two decades of history.

The butterflies on the tulip fly off.

"Show me," Damon whispers, one finger brushing her cheek as she kneels in the soil. "Come on."

"What do you want to see?"

She moves her hair onto one shoulder- watches his eye follow the curve of her neck. Her summer dress floats around her bare legs before coming to rest in the muddy soil next to her. "Yellow tulips," He pauses for a moment. "See what you can do, witchling."

Bonnie narrows her eyes at him and buries her fingers into the soil, feeling the life of it crawl over her long fingers, and imagines the field of them, spreading around her with their little yellow heads swaying in the breeze.

Damon's sigh is unexpected, but she opens her eyes to find herself surrounded by the flowers.

"When I was a child," He volunteers, and she knows if he was closer, he would be stroking her hair, running fingers over any part of her flesh he could manage to reach. "All flowers symbolised something."

"And these?"

The moment hangs in the air, and they are both on a cliff there will be no going back from.

"Damon?" Elena is at his back, voice uncertain. And there is a shadow in his eyes as Bonnie shields her eyes to feel the warmth of the sun on her face, tilting her head up.

"For you," Bonnie says softly to Elena, brushing off her dress. "He asked me- to plant them for you."

Something sparkles in her friends' eyes- a flicker of hope, a finger of passion. "Oh."

"They're lovely, Bonnie," Elena says with a smile, wrapping an arm around Damon's waist. "Thank you." And to Damon- head tilted up to face him, looking at him with that adoring expression he has waited years, centuries to see. Pink painted lips pursed into a lovely o, and she's begging him to kiss her. "What do they mean?"

A great many things, Damon thinks. None of them for you.

Bonnie's eyes are still closed as she looks at the sun, bathed in a golden glow which makes her look like a godess. So much power, he thinks, looking at the yellow tulips, spreading. The best kind.

"I'm hopelessly in love," He says unbidden, and Elena gasps as if it is the loveliest thing she has heard from anyone, in years.

He realises- he has not had eyes for her since before Bonnie came back.

She watches him accept a soft kiss from Elena for a single beat before she leaves, still unwilling to use her vampire speed as she walks her way to the boarding house, feet sinking into damp grass.

They are sitting in the living room that night- and it's the first time Bonnie truly feels it. Stefan has one arm draped lazily over her shoulder, eyes hooded as he looks over his book, and Bonnie pretends not to notice that he has had his eyes fixed on one line for more than a few minutes.

The hours pass slowly, lazily, with all the warmth of summer nights.

Stefan thinks of Caroline, Bonnie knows. He thinks of blonde hair glinting in the dark, thinks of her in all the times he has seen her. Falls a little more in love with her every day. Bonnie wonders if Damon-

-thoughts can be slippery slope, she reminds herself.

"What's this?" Elena asks Damon, head resting on his chest. Nimble fingers unfold a yellow scrap of paper, ink fresh even though the paper is centuries old. Bonnie feels something in her spine as she catches a glimpse of the writing, long and looping and in a language she does not know.

"Damon," There is laughter in Stefan's eyes, "Back to the poetry?"

Damon shrugs, eyes glinting as they catch Bonnie's.

"Read it to me," Elena is breathless, Elena is a little selfish (like most people), Elena is convinced it is for her.

And his lips form the words in Italian, rich and deep and _beautiful._ His blue eyes stay locked with her own, and Bonnie has to fight not to look away as he reads to her in Italian, from a poem written to her, and the words settle into her heart. She holds his gaze as her insides turn to liquid fire, the words settling over her like warmth.

It is over and her world has tilted on its axis and she can no longer see.

Bonnie gasps and blindly stands, aware that Damon's, Stefan's eyes follow her as she makes her way up the stairs (where she will sleep in his bed). Elena does not understand how she got so lucky, her boyfriend so romantic.

In love with another woman.

(as always)

:::

His eyes are like blue skies, and Bonnie almost takes the invitation in them.

It would be so easy, she thinks: I would fall into his arms, his bed, his heart. He's stuck in my brain. Damon is her green light. She remembers the feel of his lips on her skin, taking taking taking.

Wishes they'd gone all the way, wishes they hadn't stopped when they did.

Bonnie takes one look at the sheets, rumpled and yes they are hers (but this is his bed) and she can't sleep here and packs an overnight bag.

They put her in Room 93, Mystic Falls hotel. With its little balcony and its huge double bed, squishy and supposedly with a sleep adjusting mattress. Bonnie pours herself a finger of scotch, likes the way the drink is golden amber in the light when she holds it up to take a long sip.

The knock comes- and she had been expecting it, it's bitersweet.

Damon stands outside her door, drenched in his white t-shirt, sticking to him like a second skin from the summer rains.

"For you-"

-and he thrusts out a bunch of her own tulips, the yellow parchment wrapped around the thick stems. Moves past her and into the hotel room as if he owns it.

"What gives you the right-" She slams the door and swings around to find his chest almost touching. If she sways-only a little, they will touch. And he will feel every breath she doesn't take.

The tension will snap her; she moves away.

Directly into a wall and Bonnie lets out a colourful curse that makes Damon laugh. She watches him make his way to the ipod dock, takes in the breadth of his shoulders, tapering to that small waist.

"I can feel your eyes on me," He says with a laugh as he jams his ipod into the dock. Bonnie closes her eyes and rests her head against the door. Tries to find the strength to resist this.

"Takes away from the romance of this, doesn't it?" Damon says, looking at her from under hooded eyes.

"In my day it was a record player, even a live quartet. They made it real." The piece begins to play, and Bonnie rolls her eyes.

"There's no romance here."

"No?" His hand comes around her waist and pulls her to me. "Dance with me then, Bon. Like friends."

Don't say my name, she thinks. We can be Not bonnie and Not damon. Pretend this never happened. Pretend this isn't something we both wanted, both craved. This is magic, she thinks as they dance, swaying softly. His shirt is damp under her fingertips and he smells like rain, but she feels all of him. The arm at her waist cinches her a little tighter, and she laughs, suddenly breathless. The rain is caught on his lips.

"Kiss me," She whispers, and he does.

The gold takes her over completely, and Bonnie imagines her brain exploding as he dips her at the waist and she takes takes _takes_. The taste of him is damp with rain he must have licked off his lips, her scotch, and her insides liquify even more.

"This isn't right," She gasps as he drags his teeth down her neck, soft lips trailing to her collarbone.

Damon pauses, blue eyes serious as he lays a kiss at her heart. "I can't stop."

"Me either," Bonnie dips her head back and unbuttons the first of her blouse. Damon kisses the skin she unveils, cheshire cat quick as his fingers make quick work of the rest of the buttons.

Sunlight, he registers as he sits on the edge of the bed with her legs around him, no shirt on (no bra), she feels like warmth and goodness and light. He kisses a line down her stomach, makes his way back up to her breasts to give him the attention they deserve. And Bonnie fists his hair like she did that night so many months ago, but there is nothing cold about her now.

"Damon," She gasps and pushes his shirt from his skin so she can flick her tongue over his own chest, sending him toppling to the bed. "More."

"We have all night," he promises, swears, as they both shimmy out of their jeans. "We have all eternity."

Now is the time to pause, exammine the situation. They dissolve into a prayer that involves only the other's name, a litany, a chant.

We're going to burn, Bonnie thinks as he consumes her, and she's never been more ready.

 **i'm sorry but i fell in love tonight**

:::

 **iv. and all the kids cried out-please stop you're scaring me-  
**

"The blood lust is coming," Klaus smiles at her in her dreams, and Bonnie knows this- there is something in them that is inextricably linked-his chewed fingernails coming to brush against the strands of her hair, spilling across the pillow. "Hold tight."

The dreams repeat.

Bonnie stays in a hotel-now. She has not seen Damon since. Caroline comes, her face wrought with humanity and tension and hugs Bonnie at least three times a day, bubbling over with apologies like curdled milk. She talks; fills the silence Bonnie is so used to dreaming in with words that are just words (they never meant anything, never did).

In her dreams, Witch Bonnie sleeps soundly to recharge, mind whirring with spells and new magic, while Vampire Bonnie wakes. She feels the shift; one part of her seems to step outside of its shell at night.

And while one half of her sleeps soundly, the other part of her is specter which slides around the hotel like a ghoul at night. Everyday- everyday it seems to grow stronger. Bonnie sleeps on.

A week passes, maybe two. She begins to notice (the photo frame is a little crooked, her toes are always cold, her mind is numbing). The sun beats down outside, but there is a coldness spreading inside of her.

She wakes up each morning with a new ache forming in her bones, and no knowledge of where she has been the night before.

And then one morning, she is doodling idly on a napkin while she drinks her coffee, waiting for Caroline to show up. Bonnie glances down to what she has drawn and finds an image of someone curled up in their bed (her), and all around her, ghosts. Little black shapes which move out of her vision. And out of their mouth she swears she hears i _t-soon_ \- over and over, the whispers gathering like autumn leaves.

"Never knew you could draw," Caroline announces her presence by dumping her handbag onto her napkin, making Bonnie half jump out of her skin. "It's a bit morbid. Why is she just in the bed alone?"

Bonnie looks again, at the ghosts wavering out of sight. "Care, what do you see?"

"Just a girl in a bed. Is that a self portrait?"

She laughs, ringing hollow in her ears as her heartbeat begins to pick up speed. "It was just a doodle."

The napkin is crumpled underfoot a minute later. Bonnie pretends she doesn't see the black tendrils escaping from the stained paper under the metal work of her heeled boots.

"So," Caroline leans forward and places her elbows on the green table. "How has the vampire life been?"

Her smile is forced as she takes a sip of her iced latte, sun burning into her shoulder blades. Recently, Bonnie has started to feel as though nature is rejecting her. And the weight of the witches, which have followed her around for so long, have fallen strangely silent.

"It's weird," She sighs. "I know I'm powerful but I don't feel it."

Carolinee clucks sympathetically but gets to crux of why she's there, moving on swiftly so that Bonnie knows she hasn't really heard her. "Elena's wondering why you've moved out. Damon wants to see you."

Bonnie shrugs and turns her cheek. "I'm going to see Matt at the Grill, I think."

"Bonnie-"

Caroline's hand is cool on her arm as she tugs her back, and Bonnie pushes her off her with more force that she realises, watching her friend stumble back. "No. I need space. From all the Salvatores."

"Elena's not-

"Elena _is._ "

"Fine," Caroline forces a smile, peachy pink lips grimacing as she grabs for Bonnie's hand once more. "I'll come with you to see Matt. And I'll drop it, I swear Bon. But you can come to me with anything."

"Thank you," Bonnie squeezes Caroline's hand. "I'm just..not ready yet."

"That's fine. When I first turned, I used to do everything possible to pretend I wasn't a vampire. Silly things, really. At least you're still bound to your witch side." Bonnie would know. She has taken to putting blood bags in pasta sauce, recently. The bloodlust hovers, ever present in her mind.

She wants to know how it would be to snap someone's neck and drink deep. To drink from a throbbing vein, pulsing with blood. Bonnie sighs, forces her fangs down. She needs someone who _understands_. Caroline doesn't, not really.

But she continues as usual, one foot in front of the other, sinking into Matt's embrace and pretending it still feels like home.

(nothing feels like home anymore)

"Bonnie," Caroline says, clicking her phone off. "Klaus is coming to Mystic Falls. He's already here."

Bonnie blinks once, raises her chin a little. She's wanted a fight for a while now.

Maybe this has been the dark spots? She smiles for a beat, clenching her fists. "And why should I be scared? If it comes down to it, I could kill him quite-easily."

"Klaus is obsessive," Caroline says quietly, ducking her head. "And if he thinks there is a chance he does not have to spend eternity alone, you never know what he may do. He can be charasmatic when he wants to be."

A pale pink flush spreads over her friends' cheeks and Bonnie grins, cat quick.

"I won't do it, Caroline."

She might have found an outlet for that- _frustration_ \- though. Her nails (moss green, funnily enough) tap out a little pattern into the wood of the table, Matt's eyes boring into her.

"That's Prom Song," He exhales, and she pauses, surprised her remembers.

At Prom (it seems so long ago) it had been the song that they had danced to, Mystic Falls' Prom Queen and King, and to the outside world everything had seemed gliterry and perfect.

Matts nails now are bitten to the quick. Bonnie supposes they have been this way for years. "I got you, Bennett." Matt says, and Caroline is still silent, blue eyes glinting as she takes a deep breath.

"Is it okay if I leave?" She says, voice small. "I can't face him- _after_."

Bonnie inclines her head a little, just enough to expose the long line of her neck, and follows Caroline's heels as they click away, yellow and blue summer dress swishing around her thighs. Bonnie's in jeans today- they make her legs look a million miles longer than they are- her tank leaving her shoulders bare.

"If you want me to, I can stay with you."

Bonnie grins, all teeth. "I could have destroyed him before I became this, Matt. What can you give me that I don't already have?"

The words are built to cut, and to anyone else, they may have. Matt only smiles at her with those ice blue eyes. "A friend?"

Her breath leaves her with an audible _whoosh_ and it is the worst possible time for Klaus to appear in front of her. He does anyway, his hand large and warmer than it should be against her bare shoulder.

Matt's eyes widen and Bonnie only smiles, a tiny quirk of the lips which has him giving her a nod and squeezing her hand over the table.

"Let's take a walk," his breath is warm on the lobe of her ear as he escorts Bonnie out, and still, she is silent.

"So?" She leans against a streetlamp, the golden light illuminating her, bathing her once more.

"You know why I'm here. One half of you does."

She shrugs easily. "We have the whole night for boring talk, Niklaus." Somewhere inside of her, a piece of her soul is rattling around _screaming_ , _screaming_. A part of her she did not realise she had has taken over.

"A night is not long, not to you and I."

Bonnie clasps the streetlamp in her palm and leans against it, careful not to put her weight against it. She may be slight, but she knows now what she can crumple. (Cities, towns, an innocent's neck).

"A night is a lifetime," She laughs and the sound skitters across the back of his neck, raising the hairs there. "A night is long enough for so many stories to start and end. Why not ours?"

Klaus smirks, blue eyes glinting as he steps closer to her, pushes one finger to her heart, dead in its cage. "The Salvatore dogs are coming."

The smile on his lips is quick and easy; his eyes hold the same awe in them as they did when he first drank from her. "Bonnie," Klaus says, and takes her hand. "Come with me."

 _you're out of control._

:::

The church is crumbling, awful, paint peeling and vines growing over every available surface.

Death emnates from this place; rots it from the inside out.

And Bonnie Bennett cannot get in.

The irony of it all- Klaus can stand there and look at her with quirked brow, Klaus who has started war and killed millions, who has more blood on one pinky finger than she has on her whole body, but she cannot step foot in?

"I am a Bennett witch!" She screams, but the words come out distorted and mangled, their poison twining like the black tendrils she imagines are curled around her whole body.

"I thought we might have this problem."

"There's no problem."

"Bonnie," His touch is gentle as ever. "When was the last time you killed a man?"

 _I have never-_ witch Bonnie screams, affronted at the mere suggestion. That she is even standing here talking to this man. "Yesterday," Her vampire says, leaning casually against the doorframe. "Bled him dry. Crushed his skull to little fragments. The brain is quite a disgusting organ, you know. I much prefer the heart- the scarlet, the pop when it comes from its cage. The warmth..."

She trails off. Klaus' looks as if he would like to devour her whole.

And then the moment is broken, and he is stepping back to reveal a slight figure, cloaked in a black robe with a black veil covering her face. "Fix her," Klaus says, and leaves, flexing his fingers in their skin covering.

 _Please_ , she almost begs, her fingers brushing the fabric of his grey Henley, _give me a minute._ Klaus turns to face her as he leaves, a sad sort of smile on his face. "How many did you kill?"

 _None_ , Bonnie Bennett screams, trapped in her skin and bone prison.

"One every night," the monster who has her voice laughs easily, "Maybe more sometimes. You know how it feels, don't you? They're so _fragile_."

Klaus grins. "I'll see you soon, Bonnie Bennett."

And then the witches descend, swarming towards her like a flock of birds. Bonnie screams soundlessly as nails dig into her flesh and tug- _tug_ \- her into the church, her stomach feeling as though it has been upended and turned inside out. "Stop!" She screams, tears flowing down her cheeks and mingling with the blood pouring out of her nose. "I'm more _powerful-_ "

The ropes that bind her snake over her hips and hands, leaving scars which instantly heal in their wake. Bonnie fires spell after spell, which are as effective as feathers.

These women are not human. They are not witches. They are in between.

Someone steps forward, her face serene as she raises her hands. "Bennett." She says, and Bonnie is filled with dread for what she knows is coming.

The woman's braids brush Bonnie's neck as she leans down, her scent of herbs and grass and death. Bonnie knows Death- knows the smell of it, how it feels when it creeps into your very being. She smiles for a moment, then presses one sharp nail in the flesh of Bonnie's neck.

Bonnie feels she should beg, but finds that she can't see anything past the silvery web she is enclosed in.

She has come full circle.

And then she can't even _think_ , because all there is is pain.

If you ask her, she does not know how long it goes on for. Bonnie feels, through the mist of pain, the warmth of a thousand candles burning as she screams, and then screams some more.

There is sweat pooling in her back, every part of her shivering with exertion, and still the witches do not let up.

And through the hazy quality her mind now takes on, she hears- Damon's hoarse cry, Elena's scream layered with pain and anger, her cries. Caroline's soft sobbing, Stefan as calm as a rock behind her.

Matt comes, she thinks.

Whispers something about how she deserved- _more_.

Klaus seems to be always there, hovering in the corner of the abandoned church.

And then- then it is over, and she is lying there on the hard church floor, blood and sweat and tears pooling around her soaked clothes, ears ringing with her own screams which seem to bounce back off the high arches above her. Bonnie lies there, still spent.

Her eyes open, slowly, dulled mossy green.

Klaus stands from his own seat in a pew, blood pooling in his collarbones; the cracks of his skin. His bones seem to reform before her eyes, but still Bonnie lies still, caught in her own pain.

"It doesn't actually hurt, you know." His fingers are soft against her cheek. "You just think it does, because you can still remember not fully healing. You'll forget, after."

Bonnie wonders if it is supposed to be freeing.

She still aches all over.

Twigs dig into her newly healed wounds as she turns her face, and she chokes back a whimper. _Bennett_ witch, she reminds herself. _I am the last Bennett.  
_ He makes his way towards her and she can only watch, frozen as she is on the cracked tile even thought he silver bonds of magic no longer hold her there. Everything hurts- and she cannot help but mourn that it was not her that killed, yet she was the one that suffered (story of her life).

Klaus lifts her into his arms gently, and she breathes in the scent of his hollow shell, knows she must mimic it. They are both covered in sweat and blood, both ravaged by her mistakes.

Bonnie is glad.

Klaus should suffer, for all that he has done.

A tendril of darkness weaves its way into the cracks of the church tile, disappearing for good. In the corner, a witch-a goddess- stands by the altar, long ringed fingers inclined in a steeple. She gives Klaus a nod when he looks back, waist length braids clinking from the silver ornaments in them. _Look after her,_ the church whispers to him. He has enough sense to respect his betters.

 **i can't help this awful energy (who is in control?)**

:::

 **v. i let him climb inside my body-and held him captive with my kiss-**

Klaus deposits her on the couch of the Salvatore boarding house, still barely concious and wincing with every step he takes. "Wait," Bonnie sighs as he moves to leave, aware that it will be a few hours before the Salvatores and Elena wake, the blue of dawn only now filling the room. Her fingers ghost over his cheekbones as she runs their tips over his face, and Klaus' eyes drift shut for a moment.

"Thank you."

He nods, and leaves her there, green eyes open to the Boarding House ceiling and waiting for someone to wake.

It is in those precious hours before everyone wakes, where Bonnie lies still and allows her body to knit itself together, imagines the sinew of bones and skin rebuilding themselves. The biologist in her finds it beautiful, the way her new body can now mend itself.

Her eyes remain open, and as the living room begins to fill with golden light, she runs her chipped fingernails over the wood of the table.

She can move now. Klaus was right- she feels nothing other than a slight discomfort.

Bonnie knows; she has been out for days, maybe weeks. There is a part of her which the witches have locked away, that will rear its head soon. The grief will come, soon.

She is a girl who has never truly killed an innocent before. While she has lived her life in graveyards, the blood on her hands deserved to be there. Everything she has done-what she has _become_ \- goes against her moral compass.

Her matted hair is uncomfortable under her head, and she shifts for a moment, trying to adjust her position to something more comfortable.

Someone shifts upstairs, waking.

She's not used to the accelerated hearing yet, or even her own strength. Bonnie has lost count of how many cups she has broken just trying to lift them.

It is Caroline who makes her way downstairs first, shocked expression caught in the glare of the rising run, blonde hair haphazard and robe loosely knotted around her frame.

"Oh my god-"

There is something feverish in her friend's hands as they reach for her, shaking fingers reaching out to touch the crusted blood running down her face. "Bonnie, are you alright? Stupid question I know but what happened-"

"Caroline," Bonnie grins, grimacing at the feel of the blood flakes beginning to fall, "I think I'm okay."

And then the smile is back, one echoed by Caroline and they sit there for a moment, bathed in sunlight.

"You were out for so long, we were so worried."

"I need blood," She rasps suddenly, aware of the scratching in her swollen thought, and the feeling that she has not fed in months.

The blood bag is soothing as it slips down her ravaged throat, but still- not enough.

She knows now, what Stefan fights. After human blood there is a part of you which will never turn back.

Still, she curls her bitten nails into her palm and sits up on the couch, taking in the sunlight on her skin. She can still envisioned the cracked marble when she closes her eyes, the vines snaking over her flesh.

"I'm back," She breathes, and Caroline offers her a gentle smile, wringing out a damp cloth before passing it to her. "Because of Klaus."

Her best friend's fingers are gentle against Bonnie's smooth skin as she sponges off the congealed blood and Caroline sits back on her heels to exammine Bonnie.

"I shouldn't be telling you this," She murmmurs, smoothing back her blonde hair, "But Damon and Elena broke up. He broke up with her, Bonnie. And wouldn't leave the church for days."

Bonnie resists the urge to turn her face into the couch cushions and mimic sleep, but knows that the time has come to accept what has happened. She thinks she hears Damon shift upstairs, begin to wake.

"It's been building for a while now," She admits, more to herself than to Caroline. "I think he's just one of those people with a wandering eye."

Caroline makes an unintelligible splutter that could be a laugh, and shakes her head.

"I've never seen anyone challenge each other as much as you two. And he responds to you Bonnie, really responds. And you love him."

They both fall silent for a bit, and the pastel sky gives way to a blinding sun.

"Can you stand?" Caroline asks, and Bonnie takes that to mean that she has dropped the subject in the very real chance that Damon will hear them discussing him.

"Yeah," She follows Caroline to the kitchen on legs shaky from misuse, "I'm fully healed."

"You don't look it."

I won't be, for a long while, Bonnie thinks sadly. Maybe not ever. But time has a way of blurring all experiences, if Klaus is to be believed. Caroline quiets for a moment as she makes them both coffee, both of them falling silent to Damon's tread down the stairs.

"I think-" Caroline begins, but is cut off by Damon's laugh.

"Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, blondie," He says as he rounds the corner and catches sight of Bonnie.

She knows what she must look like: hell. Lanky hair more than a little greasy and matted at the back from where she had rested her hair against the cracked tile, blood stains on her torn clothing and smudged on her skin. Damon looks at her as if she is the world, and Bonnie smiles as he rushes to her.

"One and only," She echoes from a time before, and he laughs into her hair, lifting her up into a hug which would be bone crushing if she wasn't an immortal.

They linger for longer than they should, and Bonnie knows Caroline is watching them, but she can't help but feel as if she has finally found peace, with her legs wrapped around his waist and the sunlight coming through at them.

:::

"I want to travel," Bonnie tells Damon at the end of town, hands twined around each other as they stand, watching the sunset. They have the Boarding House to get back to, to Stefan and Caroline's promise of hosting dinner this once, with Elena and Jeremy there. It might have been awkward once, but Bonnie and Damon haven't even kissed since she has been returned to her body. And she pretends not to notice the Gilbert's jealous looks.

"Where shall I show you?"

"Florence," She thinks with a soft smile, "Venice in the winter since it is apparently horrible in summer."

"Not horrible," Damon slings an arm around her shoulder, "Just a little smelly."

"Like you," Bonnie raises an eyebrow and he grins at her, fingers tickling her ribs until she lets out a squeal of surrender.

They fall silent once more, the orange and pink skirting the sky and turning it beautiful. It illuminates their faces and Bonnie can't help but breathe in the summer air she doesn't need, lifting her face to the sky.

"I broke with Elena because of you," Damon says suddenly, eyes on her upturned face. "I should have done it...before."

Bonnie listens, turning so she can catch the honesty in his blue eyes. She has needed to hear this perhaps since she came back here, nursing Kai inflicted wounds to go with those already scarring her young skin.

"I woke up next to her one morning after a week of not speaking to you and found that I would much rather not speak to her for a week. There is nothing in her for me anymore," Damon says a little sadly, eyes still fixed on Bonnie's. "She represented a version of myself you helped me leave behind."

His fingers are gentle in her hair as he tucks a strand of it behind her ears.

"I don't know if I trust you," Bonnie admits, watching the hurt leap in his eyes as he removes his hand. "You've got a wandering eye, Damon. And you've got Elena. What's to stop you from going back to her? What's to stop us from going the same way as you two did?"

"This month that I've spent with you I haven't touched you once. Which just about killed me, by the way." Bonnie laughs along with him for a moment, then quietens as his face grows serious once more. "I haven't looked at Elena once, Bonnie. You're _it_ for me. But all I'm asking is give me a chance this summer. Let me prove to you that I'm the best version of myself."

She takes his face in her hands and presses a soft kiss to his lips, snaking her arms around his neck to deepen the kiss even as his fall to her waist. "I love you, Bonnie Bennett," Damon promises against her hair. "I love you."

The sun sets on Mystic Falls.

 **he says-oh baby, you could devaste me-**

- _end-_

 **notes:** well that was a wild ride from start to finish! hope you guys enjoyed it, i've been working on this one for a couple of months. Bamon are just so lovely to write (although that might just be my love for Bonnie coming through cause I love writing her with everyone, she's such a versatile character) anyway tell me what you thought and whether you'd like to see more of these long winded one shots since I do love writing them.


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